


Strumming on Heartstrings

by AMiserableLove



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:58:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMiserableLove/pseuds/AMiserableLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jess discovers Nick has a secret talent—and it just might drive her crazy...or melt her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strumming on Heartstrings

It started on a Monday.

Jess lay in bed frustrated, her body was exhausted and she just couldn't relax. For some reason she was unable to shut her mind off. One of her students was showing quite a bit of promise with his novel but she felt as if she had to do something to give him that extra boost—a gentle shove to help him completely come in to himself; she just couldn't figure out _how._ On top of that, Nick had been extra surly lately—walking around in a mood, snapping at everyone and anyone who dared to cross his path.

It was really starting to tick her off.

Closing her eyes she willed sleep to come, reciting recipes in her head, thinking about math equations, even counting sheep, until eventually she felt her mind begin to slowly drift off, her body welcomed the impending sleep—

That's when she heard it.

The soft strumming of a guitar.

It was a faint sound, muffled by her door. Straining her ears, she could just barely make it out—but she could tell it was pretty, the chords soft and soothing—a song she'd never heard before.

Curious, she sat up and threw the blankets off with quick ungraceful movements. Listening a moment or two longer, she waited a heartbeat before making a move to get up so she could investigate. But in her rush to find out where the music was coming from, she tripped over the tangled mess of covers at her feet, landing hard and wincing as her elbow made contact with the floor.

"OW OW OWWWWWW!" she whined rather loudly, not caring that she might wake-up her roommates in the process—clearly from the sounds of the guitar not _everyone_ was sleeping.

"Jess?" Nick's voice filtered through her room, a touch of worry clearly evident in it—after only a brief moment, a quick knock sounded at her door before it opened and he appeared with a stream of light trickling in behind him from the hallway; his expression going from concerned to amused as he saw her laying on the floor in a heap of blankets.

"What the hell?"

"I tripped."

"Yeah I can see that."

"I'm fine, thanks for asking—did you hear that?"

He raised a brow, his features still laughing at her, "hear what?"

She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her elbow and listening for a moment, before sighing in annoyance. "The music! A guitar…I swear I heard it."

Moving into her room, Nick walked over to where she was sitting and stood in front of her. Staring down, he cocked his head to the side, "I didn't hear anything," he said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. Offering her his hand, he pulled her up in one swift movement, steadying her on her feet before releasing her quickly. Avoiding her curious eyes, he turned and began walking towards the hallway. "Go to sleep Jess."

Watching as he closed the door behind him, Jess tilted her head to the side, before glancing back down at her bed—he hadn't even stayed long enough to _really_ make fun of her for her obvious mishap.

Weird.

But not giving it much more thought she crawled into bed, the soft melodic tune she had heard softly played in her head as she drifted off to sleep without further interruption.

* * *

It was Tuesday morning when it happened again.

Jess was just turning off the shower, when she once more heard the soft sounds of the guitar. Narrowing her eyes she grabbed her towel and quickly wrapped it around her body, before rushing out into the hallway, almost colliding with Winston as she did.

"You hear that?" she asked loud and out of breath.

Winston looked at her curiously for a moment before shaking his head slowly, "hear what?"

Sighing exasperated, while also noticing that the music had stopped, Jess tightened her towel around her. "The guitar _Winston,_ this is the second time in two days I've heard it."

In a move so fast she wasn't sure if she was mistaken—her roommate's eyes quickly flitted down the hall, towards Nick's door before looking back at her. "Heard nothing."

" _Winston_ …"

"Jess." Winston stated, his voice stern and unyielding. "I. Heard. Nothing."

And with that, he walked past her and into the bathroom, leaving her standing in the hall with her mouth gaping open… _he was lying._ "You done in here?" he asked over his shoulder.

But Jess was barely paying attention to him anymore; her eyes were firmly focused on Nick's closed door. Nodding, not caring if Winston could see the action or not, she began walking down the hall towards her room. Stopping in front of her door, she took a moment to glance across the hall at Nick's room again—it was eerily quiet.

What was he doing in there?

So weird.

* * *

On Wednesday Jess came home early from work, stepping into the loft, she heard the sounds of the guitar start and then abruptly stop again as she closed the apartment door. Jiggling her keys in her hand, she walked into the entryway and pausing for only a moment, quickly made her way towards Nick's room. Just as she was raising her hand to knock, he opened the door.

"Hey Jess."

"Hi, um hey."

He looked at her a moment, his dark eyes almost daring her to say something. "You need something?"

"What no—I mean I was just wondering…" she trailed off, peering over his shoulder trying to see past him into his room.

He reached behind him and closed the door, "you were wondering?"

She narrowed her eyes; his lips were twitching almost as if he was trying hard not to laugh at her. "You hear something before? Music? Guitar?"

He shook his head with a smirk. "Nope, gotta get to work. Night Jess."

She watched as he walked away, confusion edging its way into her mind.

What. The. Hell.

"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes shooting back to his bedroom door. "Night."

So, so, weird.

* * *

She was baking on Thursday.

Her co-worker Kate was turning thirty the following day and she had promised to come to school with red velvet cupcakes. As she was beating the batter, she heard it again—just barely over the loud, grating noise of the mixer she held. Turning it off she focused her attention on the hall, noticing that once again, the phantom guitar had stopped.

"Seriously? I mean seriously." she murmured to herself.

"Vices Jess, we all have vices, leave well enough alone."

Jess looked up as Schmidt came into the kitchen straightening his tie with quick and sure movements. "Vices?"

"Well I guess it wouldn't really be considered a vice, there's nothing really depraved about it, other than the fact that it's the same song over and over again—it's just that we all have coping mechanisms. Nick is currently coping. Contrary to popular belief it's not always with alcohol. Anyway, he's going through his monthly, what am I doing with my life? Why did I drop out of law-school? Will I ever find real love? Am I too chubby for a man who's just barely into his thirties? You know his…Nick Miller Pity Fest. So depressing isn't it?" At her blank stare he sighed and continued, "a few times a year during these unfortunate events he pulls out his uncle's old guitar." Schmidt shook his head sadly, just barely suppressing a shudder.

"Wait what? _Nick_? He's…he's actually playing?" she had known it was more than likely him, but hearing it out loud still shocked her.

"Yep."

"Nick?"

"Yes."

" _NICK MILLER?"_

"That's what I said."

"Our roommate, Nick Miller—the guy who can't hold a tune, who doesn't know the difference between a flute and piccolo…who once told me his favorite instrument was the _triangle_ …plays guitar? That's impossible!"

"Okay first let's be honest..there is no difference between the flute and piccolo—"

"Schmidt! What? Yes there is—"

"Are they really even instruments Jess?"

"How is that even a real question?"

"It's a valid one...useless instruments if you ask me."

"Why are we talking about this?"

"Point taken…anyway it's how he copes."

"I've lived here for over a year and a half, I have never heard _those sounds_ coming from _that_ room."

"Lucky you."

Jess shook her head confused, "No—no, not lucky me. I feel cheated, I don't get it, how is this just becoming news now! I WANT ANSWERS SCHMIDT" Her voice had taken on the slightly screechy tone it was accustomed to when she was excited or upset, and right now…she was a little bit of both.

Schmidt sighed, "There's nothing to get Jess. Nick turns into a Dave Matthews wanna be about three times a year, mostly it aligns with his monthly Pity Fests—Winston suspects it happens more but I just flat-out don't want to know if that's true—anyway when you first moved in, he said he didn't want you to know. I guess he put on his personal concerts while you were at work."

She frowned, slightly insulted, "why didn't he want me to know?"

Schmidt shrugged, "I don't know—well that's not true...he did mention something about being afraid that you'd try to start a band with him."

Jess made a face at that, "that's _ridiculous_ ," she scoffed, while her mind briefly considered the _possibilities_.

"Well obviously he doesn't care anymore, so congratulations Jess you have just joined the inner circle." Patting her on the back, Schmidt grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and left her to her cupcakes.

Standing in the kitchen with her forgotten batter dripping from the mixer, Jess' eyes traveled in the direction of the hallway as she considered the information that Schmidt had just provided her with. True, she was more than a little shocked—but it wasn't like the information was earth shattering or anything. So Nick Miller played the guitar. Big. Flipping. Deal. With a shrug of her shoulders, she decided not to linger on it _too much_ and started up the mixer again, noticing with some slight irritation that at that moment, the sounds of the guitar began to lightly filter down the hall once more.

So, so, _so_ weird.

* * *

On Friday she got drunk.

That night Jess came home slightly (very) tipsy from a girl's night out with Cece. They had done dinner and drinks—lots and lots and _lots_ of drinks. Her friend had asked her to stay the night but she had instead called a cab—she was pretty sure Cece was sexting with Schmidt and God only knew what _that_ would turn into later…the night was still young and Schmidt could be pretty persuasive when it came to Cece. _And_ , she had wanted the comfort of her own bed, her pajamas, her _Drunk_ _Jess_ _playlist_ , and her own toilet—in case she needed to empty the contents of her stomach later that night. Cece had forced, errr firmly coaxed, her into taking two shots of tequila on top of the three glasses of wine and one mojito she had already consumed.

She was flying high.

Swaying her way towards her room, she stumbled to a stop when she heard soft melodic sounds coming from just inside Nick's room. Narrowing her eyes and placing a hand on her hip, she didn't give herself a chance to think it through and putting her hand on the knob, opened his bedroom door in a burst of flailing limbs, almost falling to the ground in the process.

"AHA!" She yelled, her eyes landing on Nick, sitting on his bed, dressed in his classic red flannel and dark jeans, holding a guitar loosely in his lap. "I knew it!"

Standing he gave her a once over as she struggled to maintain her balance by leaning against the door. "Knew what?"

"It was youuuu Miller. Can't fool this girl. Nope, too s-s-s-smart for ya."

"Are you drunk?" he asked, peering at her curiously.

"Are _you_ drunk? Drunker than a drunk, drinking drinks at drunk…wait…what?"

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, "nothing...go to bed Jess."

She flicked an arm out at him, pointing her finger in front of her as she did. "You! Quit telling me to go to bed, you go to bed."

"I was about to."

"Likely story."

He sighed, "you should take some Tylenol, drink some water…head's gonna hurt like hell tomorrow." Making a move to put the guitar down, he stopped mid-motion and glanced up at her.

"You're creepy drunk staring Jess."

"You are." There was a tiny voice in her head that calmly asked her to _shut-up_ , but drunk Jess sloppily pushed it away, disliking that anyone, herself included, would try to tell her what to do.

He smirked, "I'm not drunk, and I'm only staring because you're staring."

"You play the guitar." She said suddenly, her voice sounding more than a little accusing.

He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her revelation. "Sometimes."

She shook her head. "Bu—but you're good."

His mouth turned up into a slight smile. "Nah, not really."

She shook her head fast. "No—no—no, from what I've heard you're good. Really good…and—and you can't be good, you're not allowed to— " she gasped suddenly, "Nick Miller you are a con-artist!"

Nick stared at her for a moment longer and then ran a hand down his face with a slight groan. "This is my life," he muttered clearly more to himself than to her.

Pushing away from the door, Jess marched over to him. "No. No you don't get to act annoyed. You kept this a secret from me!"

"Because I didn't want you to make it a big deal! And that's exactly what it is…No. Big. Deal."

Swaying a little, she reached out in front of her, frowning when she realized his arm was the only thing that could steady her. "But—but it is. You can't play guitar Nick…and you can't be good."

He shook his head and reaching out, gripped her shoulders, holding her in place as she began teetering to one side. " _God_ you are a sloppy drunk." Before she could debate the statement, he continued, "Why is it such a big deal? I'm really not that good, you're just that far gone. Trust me." He leaned in and sniffed her. "Did you drink tequila?"

She backed away from him, and would have lost her balance in the process—was it not for his firm grip on her. "Don't sniff me! You can't just go 'round s-s-sniffing people Miller! And yesssss you are good…and you can't be because…"

"Because why Jess?" he asked, annoyance lacing his voice.

Jess looked up at him, searching his face with a slow glassy stare. "Cuz it _confuses_ things."

He looked at her silently for a moment, before realization slowly dawned on his face. "Ohhhh."

She went to back up but found she couldn't move—his hands were still tightly gripping her arms. "Wait don't ohhh, why did you just ohhhh?"

"Is that what does it for you Jess?"

Eyes wide, Jess shook her head fast, ignoring the dizzying feeling the action brought with it. "What? No. That's _not_ what I meant. You think that you—that I? Pshhh, what? No. No. _NO_. That's not what I meant." She repeated, wondering why her voice sounded so weak.

He smiled—it spread across his features gradually, making him appear slightly evil and devastatingly attractive, "sure Jess."

Her mouth dropped open at his smug expression, his haughty words, "that's _not_ what I meant."

"Okay."

"No don't just _okay_ me…you think that just because you play the guitar that suddenly I want to jump your bones?"

He chuckled at that, and staring at her, the smile slowly faded from his face, and he raised a brow while considering her carefully, "do you?" he asked, his dark eyes were suddenly serious, no longer laughing at her, and she couldn't ignore the closeness of their bodies—how his hands had gentled on her arms and his grip no longer seemed like a means to steady her but much more like a tender embrace.

Searching his eyes she licked her lips before letting out a slow breath, her mind felt even fuzzier than before. "What was the question again?"

His mouth kicked up into a small grin, and he shook his head, appearing slightly amused, "I asked if you wanted to jump my bones...because you found out my secret."

" _Ohhhh..._ " YES! Something screamed inside of her, and her eyes went wide as she thought it and she glanced up quickly, meeting Nick's stare for a moment, briefly afraid she had actually said it out loud. And when her gaze found his dark chocolate eyes, she felt her heart pick up and a low humming sound in her ears. How long was she going to fight it anyway—the simmering attraction between them. Licking her lips nervously, she tried to laugh off the unwanted feeling of desire that pooled in her belly. "Um I plead the fifth." She whispered, wondering vaguely when her voice had taken on such a breathy quality.

His eyes darkened at that, and something flashed in them, before he shifted closer to her, and on a gasp she realized his intent—he was going to kiss her.

Good God Almighty, Nick Miller was going to kiss her.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her pulse raced, her heart soared, her head pounded…ohhhh God...her head pounded—who the hell was using a jackhammer on her brain?

Suddenly she came crashing down, suddenly the room began spinning—

Suddenly she felt as if she was about to throw-up.

"Bathroom," she breathed, noticing how Nick straightened and shook his head slightly as if trying to knock himself out of his own daze.

"What?"

"I'm going to be sick," she mumbled, and stumbling away from him, she ran to the bathroom just barely making it in time before her drinks came back up on her and she violently threw up the contents of her stomach, cursing Cece and her damn tequila shots between loud gut-wrenching heaves. Sinking to the floor she laid her head against the cool tile, muttering about bitchy friends, jackass guitar players, and stupid _stupid_ alcohol, as she alternated between squeezing her eyes shut tight and opening them, not sure which one, if either, lessened the dizziness.

She stayed like that for awhile, not trusting her body...not wanting to face Nick.

But after her stomach was no longer churning and she was quite certain she could walk again on steady legs, she reluctantly dragged herself up from the bathroom floor, knowing she couldn't stay in there forever—Schmidt would have a fit. And shuffling over to the sink, she brushed her teeth twice, almost gargling an entire bottle of mouthwash afterwards. Collecting herself, and trying to ignore the sudden fast beating of her heart, she began walking down the hallway, attempting to clear her hazy brain as she did and hoping that Nick had just gone to bed—that he wasn't waiting to pounce on her. She couldn't blame him if he chose to make fun of her for her drunken stupidity...she was an easy target, he'd have enough ammunition against her for the next year...maybe longer.

But when she noticed the door to his room was closed, she tried to push away the sinking feeling of disappointment, and wracked her brain, trying to remember if they had _really_ almost kissed or if that had only been in her drunken mind—maybe the intentions had been entirely one-sided.

On a sigh, she shoved open her bedroom door, walking over to her bed she stopped in her tracks and stared at it. Laid out on her mattress was her favorite pair of flannel pajamas. Next to her bed was an empty trashcan and on her nightstand, a tall glass of water stood next two pills and a piece of paper with something written on it. Picking up the note, she couldn't help the smirk that crossed her features as she read Nick's chicken scratch…

_I know this is your favorite pajama outfit. Just call me if you need help getting into them—I won't look…too much. Take the pills, and drink the **entire**_ _glass of water—then go to bed Casanova._

Setting the note back in its place she tried to suppress the dumb smile that had taken over her features while quickly shrugging out of her _going-out clothes._ And stepping into her PJs, she was proud of herself when she tripped and nearly fell only once, well _maybe_ twice, while making the change. And as she settled into bed, thinking about her almost moment with Nick, and briefly wondering how many more of those they would have before one of them actually manned-up and acted on the tension that existed between them—she couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips as she heard the sound of his guitar softly drift through her closed door.

Sweet.

So sweet.

It was only when she heard the muffled sound of his voice, singing along with the music, that her eyes shot open and she groaned, her mind reeling as she listened to his scratchy voice carrying a tune and gently mixing with the light sounds of his guitar playing…

Oh good God help her...

It started on a Monday and ended on a Friday...kind of.


End file.
